


Escape from Haven

by WinterWolfWitch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Prompt Art
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:21:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26612884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterWolfWitch/pseuds/WinterWolfWitch
Summary: The aftermath of the attack on Haven. The Inquisition's forces are in disarray, the Inquisitor lost.Cullen struggles to cope.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan
Kudos: 30





	Escape from Haven

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt art by the wonderful Yinza (yinza.tumblr)

Cold... Cold and pain. Excruciating pain in every single part of her body. Everything around her was shrouded in a thick mist and she could no longer tell if it was her failing vision or if the weather had really gotten that bad. She kept wishing she was numb enough not to feel the agony, but perhaps the pain was the only part of her that was left now. Concern over the gravity of her injuries seemed a faraway thought and on some level she had accepted that the next breath might be her last. Only the slow thump of her ever-decreasing heart rate seemed loud enough to penetrate the howling wind now. 

She numbly fixated on the small puffs of frosty breath that seemed to dissipate into the heavy snowfall as soon as they left her mouth. Was she still moving? Or was every next push just a dying vestige of her collapsing mind?

Corypheus had thrown her about like she was a ragdoll, a toy for him to swat aside with no more effort than a cat toying with a mouse. Even with the forbearance of downing a few healing potions, letting their residual healing effect carry her through the worst of the attack, her body was no match for the cumulative damage he had inflicted so casually. 

For a while, she had thought she’d been granted a narrow escape. When the ground collapsed beneath her and she found herself at the bottom of the abandoned mineshaft, she had actually felt _safe_ for a few precious seconds. Even with her face in the wet, damp earth and broken supports hovering precariously over her head, it had felt like a glimmer of _hope_. Those three heartbeats before the pain caught up with her and every breath became a knife plunged into her midriff. On some distant level, she knew some of her ribs were broken. Whether they had shattered in the fall or when he was trying to crush the life out of her, she didn’t know. Right now it was just one more hurt among the many. 

He had crushed her magic shield as if it was no more bother than a spider’s web. A momentary distraction at best as one stopped to brush the strands away. 

She had welcomed the cold, for a while. After thinking she would never again see the light of day, after _hours_ of crawling around the dark tunnels, she had revelled in that first brush of fierce wind on her face. She had embraced the bite of frost, turning her face into the feather-soft caress of snowflakes brushing her cheeks.

_Pretender. You toy with forces beyond your ken no more._

The memory of his dark, malevolent voice made her shudder so violently she almost lost her footing. The sections of her fine golden-blonde hair that had stuck to her face in damp, sweaty strands were now almost frozen solid. She could feel them skitter across her skin like eerie tiny fingers. Nothing could have prepared her for him, not even the many feverish Fade nightmares she’d had since the Breach. He was all her fears and terrors made flesh. The grotesque remains of what must have been a human being once. 

Another step, her injured leg dragging behind like a leadstone. Even though she couldn’t feel it anymore, she was probably still bleeding. She didn’t even know why she was still trying, she lost any sense of direction long ago. The wind on her face drove the ice into her skin with the cut of a thousand needles and she wearily tried to lower her head further. 

Were the snow piles getting deeper, or was it just harder to lift her legs? Her hands shook so badly when she raised them, but she felt an undeniable urge to check if the weather was obscuring her vision or if she had simply gone blind. Seeing her trembling fingers provided a small measure of comfort even though they were deathly pale, nails torn and dirty from when she had clawed her way through long since abandoned tunnels. The anchor flared when she feebly attempted to recast her shield spell, but as before, even the small reserves of mana still available to her seemed frozen solid. The shield had been the only thing between her and the worst of the biting cold for as long as she could maintain it, the protection her leather duster provided feeling ludicrously inadequate. And then, somewhere along the way, the biting cold had slowly turned into a strange heat, burning her extremities from within and she had discarded the coat. Some faraway and distant voice in her head cried out, telling her she needed the coat’s protection, but it was nothing more than a feeble afterthought. 

_You **will** kneel._

It would be easy to fool herself into thinking she had only knelt, _cowered_ , before him because of the combined force of his magic and the looming threat of his corrupted high-dragon, but had she not been bending the knee for one reason or another all her life? Perhaps this was a fitting end then; to fade away into oblivion with nothing to keep her company but an endless tableau of raging snow. It had been a long time since those dark voices had kept her company but now they crooned to her like long-lost lovers. _Just rest. There is nothing left to fight for. They all left you. Wouldn’t it be nice to just lay down and sleep? You won’t be missed._

Perhaps resting for a short moment wouldn’t be so bad. It might allow her mana to regenerate a little quicker and without a protective shield, she would definitely not last much longer. Even now the anchor on her hand flickered feebly as she tried to maintain a minor spell for warmth. 

As if the mere thought prompted the action, her body lurched to a stop and she fell to her knees with a sob and a sharp gasp of pain. Her body sank into the snow as if it was welcoming her; the frosty crunch of it feeling incongruous with the soft texture that now surrounded her. Her breath was laboured, each intake causing her to fight down an urge to cough. The agony in her side was now the pain that cried out the most and she found herself listing to one side in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure. Her thoughts were fuzzy and disoriented and she dumbly stared at the way the light made the ice crystals glisten. Over the wind, the distant howling of wolves drifted closer, but it barely registered. There was something important she still had to do, but remembering was so hard. Her eyes felt so heavy, the cold no longer something she was consciously aware of. Her body had created a small hollow in the snow and it looked so inviting that she gently lay on her side and curled up inside it. Time to sleep. 

****

He felt weary. Not the usual weariness that came with the long hours and troubled sleep, he’d been living that life for decades. No, this was the kind of weariness that seeped into the soul and insipidly drained out all colour, every scrap of light. He was functioning without thought, issuing orders because it was expected of him, but there was no life in them, no hope. They had lost their Herald, the only weapon they had against this madness and he had allowed it to happen. 

Haven never stood a chance, their defenses laughable, despite all his unrelenting efforts to form them into an army. There just hadn’t been enough time. Never enough time. He’d always felt he could make a difference and perhaps—in some small way—atone for his past mistakes if he just pushed himself hard enough. The nightmares, the headaches, they were all part of that atonement and a burden he would gladly bear if it meant being victorious against those would see Thedas suffer. Those who would use the defenseless in their games for power without a second thought or shred of remorse. Those who would never relent in their selfish and malicious greed. But now, even those reasons felt hollow and meaningless. It was as if a black hand had reached into the depths of his soul and snuffed out the light, leaving nothing but shadows and darkness. He’d been fully prepared to make a last stand and die, one last fight to the death to scream their defiance in Corypheus’ face as they buried that miscreant’s army along with all of Haven, his own blood given freely if it meant saving even one innocent. 

But then Roderick had told them of the path and he’d seen the resignation in Gwen’s eyes even before the badly wounded chancellor had finished speaking. She looked so vulnerable, those haunting green eyes so full of compassion as the old man struggled to get the words out and his feelings for her had hit him like a punch to the gut. His denial had run so deep, that only the realisation he was about to lose her could force him to face the truth that had been staring him in the face for so long. 

“What of your escape?” He’d heard himself say, still trying to marshall his wits. Her sad smile had been another knife to the gut; she knew Corypheus was coming for the Anchor like a hound following the scent of blood, they all knew it. 

And then he heard himself utter those cursed words he would regret for the remainder of his days. 

“Perhaps you will surprise it. Find a way?” Pathetic. It was a platitude neither of them believed or deserved and he’d hated himself for it as soon as the words left his mouth. They both knew the truth of it: she wasn’t coming back from this. He should say something. Let her know how he felt. Didn’t she deserve to know that much at least before the end? The words died on his tongue, drowned in a wave of emotion that closed his throat as surely as a vice. In the space of two heartbeats, she was gone and it was too late for anything other than carrying out his sworn duty. 

It wasn’t until most of her personal guard returned without her that he realised she was out there alone. She’d ordered them to go back and help with the retreat, saying there was nothing to be gained by them being mowed down beside her. He still didn’t understand where she’d found the courage. She’d always seemed so affable and compliant, rarely spoke to him unless he addressed her directly. 

Of course he’d been aware of the way she looked at him sometimes and while he found it both flattering and endearing, he’d hardly paid it any mind. He had carefully closed himself off to any romantic entanglements, his personal circumstances made him entirely unsuitable for anything lasting. 

In truth she was a lot like many of the mages he’d come across in the Circles in the way her deference to him seemed given almost without thinking. Carefully conditioned responses that the Order had always readily made good use of. Every templar knew how to press that authority to the greatest possible effect. It reminded him uncomfortably of the kind of man he’d almost become after Kinloch and so he’d shied away from getting to know her. He had kept himself at a distance, answering her warmth with nothing more than professional courtesy. What he wouldn’t give now to see those enticing lips curl into that always slightly self-deprecating smile once more. 

They needed to push on, get those that were left further up the mountain path. More than anything they needed to find a safe refuge that would offer shelter and safety from attacks, but he just couldn’t make himself give the order. He knew it wouldn’t be long before Cassandra would step in and take the decision out of his hands, but he just couldn’t bring himself to turn away. Not yet. And so, despite the millions of other things that needed doing more urgently, he had ventured out from their temporary camp once more. They had capable scouts and troops that were far more suitable for the task and he could tell from the awkward sideways looks he was getting that they knew it too. The cold wind battered him like it also wanted him to turn back and do his duty rather than be out here indulging his guilt. It snuck past his thick cloak and soaked through his armour as if it was intent on leaving its mark on his skin, just as she had done with his heart. 

The stray dog she’d adopted had taken to following him now when he left the camp, even though it struggled with the deep snow even more than he did. Gwen had hastily thrust it into Josephine’s care right before she used herself as the distraction, but it had proven itself to be an accomplished escape-artist. He could just about make out Lotus’ dark silhouette up ahead as the dog hopped a path through the deep snow, barely more than a vague shape against the light with its ears flat like that. Only a few days ago, the sight would certainly have brought a smile to his lips, but not today. He felt as cold on the inside as his fingers felt inside his gloves, but he didn’t deserve to be warm. Had she been cold, in the end? 

A sharp bark interrupted his anguished thoughts and he frowned as he watched Lotus veer off sharply to the left. _Probably smelled a rabbit._

Only there was very little game left up here at this height and certainly not in this weather and if the dog was stalking something, he certainly wouldn’t have expected it to bark and chase it off. Normally he might have left the dog to fend for itself, it had certainly seemed more than capable of doing so back in Haven, but now it was one of the last memories he had of her and he just couldn’t bear the thought of it dying out here in the cold. _Like she did._

He gave a sharp whistle, or his best attempt at one through lips that were numb with cold. Another single bark was his only response, although much further away now. He’d only just started training the mutt to come when he called it, feeding it small scraps as a reward, so he really shouldn’t be surprised that it ignored him now. _You’re certainly no Mabari, you little vagabond._

He had said it with amusement at the time, but Gwen had still shot him a quasi-indignant look, proclaiming that Lotus was at least as smart as the average Mabari and a good deal quicker. The memory made his heart ache with longing. 

He signalled to the two scouts up that were further ahead and then followed in the dog’s tracks with a sigh. More excited yipping, sounding closer now and he scowled. With his luck it had probably gotten itself stuck in hole with some angry skunks, not to mention that it was taking him away from the path back to what had once been Haven. All night he’d lain awake, turning over every possible scenario in his mind, calculating all the odds. By the time he finally caught up to the skinny black dog, it was frantically digging a hole in the snow, stopping ever so often to bury its snout deep in the crisp powder and inhale deeply, only to snort right after and resume the digging. Whatever it was smelling, it had to be interesting enough to risk freezing its nose, he mused. He could hear the dog’s claws scrabble on ice now and hoped he wouldn’t end up slipping and breaking his neck chasing after the fool creature. 

_It would certainly be one way to end the pain._

“What have you got there that’s so important, eh?” He tried to push the sleek black body aside, but she ignored him and redoubled her efforts to get through the ice, spraying more snow between her back legs. 

Taking her gently by the scruff, he pulled the dog back, thinking he should really get it a collar of some kind. 

“Come on now, be a good girl for me, let me have a lo—”

Through the layer of ice Lotus had uncovered, he could make out a dark shape. Something must have gotten caught there by last night’s frost, unless he misjudged the thickness of it. He knelt beside the dog, absently stroking her head as he leaned in for a closer look, wondering if it would be worth finding out if the meat was still salvageable. They had left almost everything behind and supplies would be at critical levels, especially as they had no way of knowing how far they would need to stretch them. Hides were always welcome and could be used for a great number of things, even if the meat turned out to be rotten. He brushed his hand across the glass-like surface, clearing a bigger area so he could assess how difficult it would be to uncover what lay beneath. He fell back with a startled gasp when a faint green glow suddenly pulsed underneath his glove and instantly faded away again. It had been so brief, that it was easy to think he’d imagined it. Just his grief and anguish playing tricks with his eyes. And yet his sword was in his hands before the thought had fully formed, the pommel of it striking the ice with powerful blows until it cracked under the onslaught of his frantic attacks. 

Every shred of common sense told him there was no hope, that no one could survive a night out in the freezing cold without moving. He wedged the point of his sword in the cracks and began to lever away larger sections of ice, realising it seemed to have created a perfect compartment around her. He hurriedly tossed aside a bigger slab and cursed when he saw long blonde hair and pale skin. 

“Let the blade pass through flesh.” _Oh Andraste, hear me, if you have ever had any love for me at all, hear me now._ Prayers fell from his lips in a hoarse whisper, tearing themselves from his throat as if he could will her back to life by the sheer force of his faith. 

“Let my blood touch the ground.” _Take me instead, but not her, I beg of you._

Tearing off a glove with his teeth, he reached into the hollow and pressed his fingers against the side of her neck. 

“Let my cries touch their hearts.” He shut his eyes, every fibre of his soul focussed on the connection between her skin and his fingertips. She was colder than marble, her lips a purplish blue and her arms impossibly bare and pale. 

“Let mine be the last sacrifice.” 

For the space of another heartbeat there was nothing, nothing but the endless darkness creeping further into every recess of his soul, but then he felt it. It was so faint that it would have been easy to miss if he had not been so intent on it. The merest flutter of a pulse. So weak he worried it might yet be snatched away from him and he sucked in a sharp breath. The crunch of footsteps sounded behind him, telling him the scouts had caught up. 

“Get a healer,” he called over his shoulder, even as he scooped her impossibly cold body into his arms. 

“Commander?” The scouts continued their approach, curious to see what he had discovered. 

“GET A HEALER!! RUN!!” 

He bellowed the words loud enough to send both the scouts and Lotus scurrying as if they were on fire, but he barely paid them any mind. 

“Stay with me,” he murmured into the frozen strands of her hair, even as he shook off his cloak and wrapped it around her. 

He lifted her bundled-up body into his arms and followed the scouts as quickly as he dared, doing his utmost best not to jostle her any more than absolutely necessary. A pitiful groan escaped her lips, her eyelids fluttering feebly just before her eyes opened, staring without focus and yet it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. 

_From these emerald waters doth life begin anew…._


End file.
